Do Not Go Quietly
by Obsidian3
Summary: This was NOT how Callie wanted to leave things...
1. Chapter 1

Rating: PG-13, at least so far.  
Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of ABC and Shonda Rhimes - though considering the treatment they've been giving it, I'm starting to think there should be some kind of DCFS-equivilant for television shows.  
Summary: This was NOT how Callie wanted to leave things...

Author's notes: You know, I've never written fic for a show that I've never actually seen a single episode of. (I have seen clips on Youtube and read the fic of others, though. Not quite the same, I know, but at least it seems to have spared me some monumental stupidity on the behalf of ABC...) However, I find that I can't quite just let this sort of thing go by unremarked upon. That, and the muse can be a sucker for some angst. Anyway, please forgive any mistakes or minor mischaracterizations.

And away we go...

* * *

Callie Torres was not typically the sort to be given over to introspection.

She was impulsive. She wore her heart on her sleeve. She was aggressive, and confident, and went after what she wanted.

Except when it came to Erica Hahn.

Erica, it seemed, was the exception to every rule. When it came to Erica, Callie was nervous, pulled back when she should have pushed forward, was not at all open about her feelings, and had let her take the lead.

She'd told herself at the time that she'd just learned from her disastrous marriage to George, and that she'd wanted to avoid making the same mistakes. And that was true, to a degree. She _hadn't _wanted to be burned like that again.

But at the same time, she'd known full well that Erica wouldn't do that to her. Erica had loved her - genuinely loved her. And how had she repaid that love?

She'd freaked out and ran away. Not just once, but multiple times. Why Erica kept taking her back, even - especially - after she'd run to Mark to learn, to clear her head, to prove something to herself... She had no idea.

And now she might never know.

Erica was gone.

And nobody knew where she'd gone **to**.

Chief Webber - damn him - was more concerned with Erica's threat to go to UNOS regarding the Izzie/Denny debacle. Given that Callie had never said one word about it to him, she could only assume that Erica was actually moving forward with it.

And she had no idea how that made her feel.

She didn't want to defend Izzie. Hell, she couldn't believe she _had _defended Izzie - in however indirect a manner - to Erica. Had actually sided with Izzie - with the hospital - against her own girlfriend.

She hadn't understood what Erica had been trying to tell her. Not until the next day, when it was far too late.

If Erica didn't make friends easily, she would naturally have an even harder time letting them into her heart. Falling in love... That was the sort of thing that Doctor Hahn, cardio badass extraordinaire, would have actively resisted. She left who she was outside the hospital, she'd said.

Yet, somehow... Somehow, Callie had evidently slipped through the cracks of her armor. Callie had invaded her heart, then promptly misused and abused what should have been a treasured gift.

She didn't wonder why Erica had left her.

She wondered why it had taken so long.

* * *

The first few days after Erica mysteriously vanished from the face of the planet had been... tense, to say the least. It took almost an entire day for Callie to notice that people had begun looking at her oddly, edging away from her as subtly as they could.

No mystery there. She was all but radiating a black cloud of misery and depression, and snapped at those brave enough - or foolish enough - to attempt to try and figure out what was wrong with her. Didn't _she, _Hahn's best friend, know where she'd gone?

No. No, she didn't. And it hurt too much to try and explain to people why that was.

Only Mark Sloan had known they were an item, so he was the only one who wasn't at all surprised that she was looking _worse _as the week went on, rather then better.

Finally, five days after Erica had left, he managed to corner her at lunch. "Are you even going to _try _and deal with this?"

"Go away," she said dully, poking listlessly at her salad. Why had she ordered this? Out of all the available choices...

_"Shove over, Sloan. Torres and I are going to share a Sapphic salad."_

He shook his head. Disgusted with her? Oh, probably. God knew she was disgusted with herself. This was all her fault. Why hadn't she just lured Erica up to the roof and shoved her off? At least that would have been quicker, comparatively painless, and been over in a much faster, more permanent way. This...

"Okay," Mark said abruptly, startling her out of her thoughts. "Tell me what happened."

She stared at him. "**You** want to talk about emotional issues?" The only thing that would have shocked her more would have been if Christina had sat down with them and suddenly announced that she wanted to be Callie's bestest best friend ever, because she cared more about her then cardio.

Which wasn't so much unlikely as it was drugged-out hallucination territory.

"I know, I know, not really my thing, right?" He nodded. "And that's true. But I would be an absolutely lousy friend if I just left you sitting here looking like you were contemplating slitting your wrists. So out with it."

"I'm the worst girlfriend ever." She hadn't meant to actually say that - hell, she hadn't meant to say _anything _- but it slipped out before she could stop it, or even think it through.

And she realized it was true.

"What? Why would you-"

She slammed her fork down angrily. She was furious with herself, but she still saw him flinch reflexively. Not unfairly, she had to admit - she had been known for her temper, in the past. 'Cage-fighter Callie', she'd been dubbed. "Because I am! _Look _at how I treated Erica! She put up with so much of my bullshit, and all the gay panic, and I just, I just... pushed her away more, again and again. I hurt her over and over and over, and still... God, _still _she loved me. She didn't leave me because she hates me, she left because I treated her like dirt. I didn't deserve to have someone as amazing as her, and she finally realized that if she stayed, I'd grind her down into nothing." She felt tears threaten, but pushed them back ruthlessly. As much as Erica deserved to have her shed a few tears over what they'd lost, this was neither the time nor the place.

Doctor Hahn would _not _have approved.

Mark was silent for a long moment, pursing his lips in thought. "That was way more melodramatic then I would have said it," he said finally.

It surprised a laugh out of her, likely his intention all along. "Sorry. I guess proximity to Grey and her bunch has affected me."

"That is one of the hazards of working in this hospital," he agreed, a twinkle in his eyes. "That, and sex in on-call rooms."

"I'm sometimes amazed that any actual medicine gets practiced here," she muttered. She knew how the way the staff seemed to devote more time to their personal lives then actually treating their patients had driven Erica up more then one wall.

_"But the point is that we do work together. And in order for me to do my job, I need to leave who I am outside the doors of this hospital." _

"And yet it does," he countered. "So, the question becomes, what is it going to take to shake you out of this funk that you're in?"

That question required no thought at all to answer. "Erica."

Not unexpectedly, that brought him up short. Callie, tired of looking at her mostly untouched salad, rose to go throw it away.

She wasn't really hungry, anyway.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Callie managed, at the very least, to pull herself together on the job. No matter how she felt, her patients deserved the very best care she could give them.

She still tended to skip more meals then she ate, and knew she'd lost a few pounds already, but couldn't quite find it within her to care.

She didn't go out for drinks with anyone, anymore. She didn't spend time with Mark, she barely exchanged five words with Christina - and they lived together - and she didn't even care anymore if anyone was whispering or talking about her.

Had anyone figured out what had been going on between her and Erica?

She neither knew nor cared.

Ironically, that probably would have Erica happy. One of the things Callie had freaked out about - one of the many, many things - was people finding out about them. Not that Doctor Hahn wanted to be gossipped about, either, but Callie actively despised it, and had ever since things had gone wrong with George. (Which was an entirely different matter altogether. Callie O'Malley? What the hell had she been thinking?) Now...

If Erica would just come back, would just take her back one last time, she'd shout it from the rooftops, rent a billboard, and dip into her trust fund to have 'Callie Torres loves Erica Hahn' scrawled across the bottom of every major national network.

Because she was not ashamed of Erica, or what they had together. She was ashamed of the way she'd treated it. Treated her.

She knew she'd already had more chances then she deserved, yet still... She hoped.

Because she had to cling to something when she watched the Chief acting chipper, as if his career wasn't in serious jeopardy. When she sees people lauding Izzie Stevens, who she at times thinks should not even be allowed to practice medicine. When she sees all the happy couples, or bed-hopping manwhores, and goes home alone to her cold, empty bed.

When she occasionally drives past Erica's place, and finds no sign of her there.

She needs something. And hope is all she has left.

She has to wonder how long it will be until that's taken from her, too.

Or if she'll somehow destroy it herself, like she has every other good thing in her life.

Maybe she deserves to be alone.

But damn it, Erica deserves an apology. Even if she doesn't want to hear it.

* * *

She almost has to laugh, when Addison finally calls her.

Not because Addison called her, no. Because she heard about what was going on from Mark Sloan.

Mark calling in reinforcements is rare enough when it comes to women, but to call Addison?

She hadn't seen that coming. But looking back on the tangled emotional mess that was Seattle Grace, she wonders if she should have.

Addison doesn't berate her. Doesn't pity her. Doesn't say she was right or wrong. She just listens, while Callie pours it out. Everything she'd been thinking, feeling, knowing. Her thoughts, fears, insecurities... All of it.

And she cried. Oh, how she cried. She was amazed that Addison was actually able to understand her through her sobs.

"And you have no idea where she is?" Addison asks when Callie is finally finished. It's ungodly early, and while Callie may have a day off, Addison probably doesn't. Yetshe doesn't try to hurry things along at all.

"No," Callie croaked, her throat sore from all the emotion she'd released after keeping it bottled up for so long. "Almost a month, now... The Chief probably knows, if she's really pushing that UNOS thing, but he's hardly about to tell me. After all, why would he? I'm just a lowly carpenter." She's aware of how bitter that sounds. She simply doesn't care.

Addison, it seems, does. "You are no such thing," she rebuked. "Erica certainly never thought so."

That... was true, she supposed. "That doesn't mean _he _doesn't," she replied.

Addison paused, and Callie got the idea that she agreed with her, but didn't want to admit it. "The Chief isn't a bad guy, really," she said finally. "He just tends to... lose sight of what's important, sometimes."

"Like I did."

She could all but hear Addison shrugging. "Maybe. God knows he's hardly done better in his lovelife then you have in yours. And really, Callie-"

"I know, I know!" she said, cutting her off. "I treated Erica like dirt, I hurt her feelings again and again, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise, or that she doesn't have feelings at all. I just..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I need to see leaves."

Addison had no way of knowing what _that _meant, obviously, so she didn't even try to figure it out. "Well, if you're looking for leaves, Central Park was always a great spot to do some leaf watching, back in New York."

Callie laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, great. I'll, ah, keep that in mind."

Addison pressed on, undaunted. "I still hear from some of my old collagues back there, you know. Hell, no doubt you'll keep in touch with a lot of the people there once you complete your residency."

"Maybe." Though the way she felt right now, she didn't know if she'd actually want to. Even talking to Mark lately left her feeling nauseated, after the part - however unwitting - he'd played in the way things had gone wrong between her and Erica. He was just too big of a reminder of what she'd lost.

"Oh, you will. Ties like that don't just go away," Addison predicted confidently. "Have I ever told you about my residency?"

Callie had to think about that. "A little."

"Well, you'd like the hospital. It may not be Seattle Grace... But then again, it's not Seattle Grace."

"What, they actually focus on their patients?"

Addison laughed. "Actually, yes. And they have a fantastic cardio program. Although from what I hear, they have been looking for a new cardio chief. They may even have found someone, but there's evidently some kind of legal thing going on that I'm not even supposed to know about, let alone discuss."

Callie went very, very, very still. Her mouth opened and closed silently a few times, before she was finally able to force out, "Erica?"

"Anyway, like I said, New York's great for leaf watching this time of year. If you're into that sort of thing." She paused. "And don't need any glasses."

And there was no way, no way in hell, that Addison should have known anything about **that** discussion. Which meant that there was only one person who _could _have told her. "Is... Is she okay?" Callie whispered.

Addison paused, then very deliberately replied, "Why don't you go and tell me?" Then she hung up.

And that, Callie decided, was the best idea she'd heard in weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Do Not Go Quietly... (2/?)  
Author: obsidian179  
Rating: PG-13, at least so far.  
Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of ABC and Shonda Rhimes - though considering the treatment they've been giving it, I'm starting to think there should be some kind of DCFS-equivalent for television shows.  
Summary: This was NOT how Callie wanted to leave things...

Author's notes: I apologize for the long wait, but sometimes the muse just doesn't want to cooperate, and this time of year, I don't have as much writing time as usual. Anyway, I did promise that I would include someone other then Callie and Mark in this chapter, so I will do just that. Maybe even more then one. ;)

People may still well be OOC, I dunno. But given how the show's evidently been progressing, would that be such a bad thing? ;) And this chapter has music! All By Myself lyrics (modified as they are) by Eric Carmen, Leaving On A Jet Plane lyrics (lyric?) by John Denver, and This Time lyrics by Melanie Chisholm.

And away we go...

* * *

Virginia Dixon did not especially like Seattle Grace Hospital.

It was disappointing, really. It had sounded so promising, in the beginning. Even if they'd been slipping in the rankings, Seattle Grace was still a good hospital, and a first-rate trauma and transplant center. The opening for Chief of Cardio had been unexpected, but had been a welcome surprise. She'd felt good about it.

That good feeling had lasted right up until she actually walked into the hospital and met her (possible) future co-workers.

On the surface, they'd been friendly and welcoming, and she'd written off any tension to the fact that she was (maybe) replacing one of their respected colleagues. She'd been a little disappointed that she hadn't been able to meet Dr. Hahn. The woman was something of a legend in the cardiothoracics field, after all. She had no real idea why Hahn had left, and no one seemed to want to talk about it, but it had been an honor to even be considered as a replacement for her.

But she hadn't gotten to where she was by being stupid. They wanted her as cardio chief, yet everyone from Chief Webber to the residents were condescending and treated her like a subordinate. And worse, they seemed to arbitrarily choose which rules they were going to follow and which they weren't, even making up new ones on the spot if they had to in order to get their way.

In other hospitals, they would have at least made an effort to understand her. It usually took time before the inevitable whispers started up, when the other doctors began noticing that she wasn't quite... "normal".

Whatever _that _was.

But not so at Seattle Grace. No, they'd bypassed all the welcoming and offered warmth she'd come to expect from a new hospital, and jumped straight to the judgmental and hurtful phase.

She supposed it was efficient, at least.

She was also disappointed that none of them seemed to know anything about Asperger's. She tried her best to interact normally with people, using everything she'd learned in her cognitive therapy, social training, and speech therapy classes, but sometimes that just wasn't enough. And to throw her into situations like they did, with no warning or preparation...

Even when they weren't saying anything, she could still _feel _the comments being directed her way.

Freak.

Robot.

Bitch.

She couldn't really explain why she did some of the things she did - not that anyone really asked. She didn't set out to be cold or cruel. But when she was thrown into situations like she had been, she had no idea what to do, to say, and tended to lock up. In the past, she would have just stood there, shifting uncomfortably, painfully aware of just how lacking she was.

She wondered which would have been better.

Science was both her salvation and her curse. It was something solid to fall back on, something real and concrete, that wasn't defined by people's perceptions. No matter who was dealing with it, or what the situation was, it stayed exactly the same. So when dealing with a distraught family, telling them how their daughter was brain dead, she fell back on that. It was what she knew.

She'd realized afterward just how insensitive she must have seemed, how callous, but she genuinely had thought that if she could just get them to see how much good their daughter could do by donating her organs as soon as possible, how many lives she could save...

Yes, what had happened to their daughter was a tragedy, but if something good could come out of that, something miraculous, wouldn't that be a good thing? Wouldn't that mean that it wasn't just some random horrible event, that there was a purpose to it?

Wouldn't knowing that their daughter was saving lives help?

She'd believed it would. She still did, really, but knew she'd gone about presenting her arguments the wrong way. She'd relied solely on science. And she'd kept going, even after it had become clear that she was offending them. Hurting them. Doing the exact opposite of what a doctor was _supposed _to do.

She'd once heard it said that science was a mercurial lover, and now she thought she understood what that meant. It could lead her to miraculous and amazing discoveries one moment, then break her to pieces the next.

She'd ended that day by hiding in one of the on-call rooms, seated on one of the beds, with her legs drawn up against her chest. It had been a while since she'd felt the need to go seclude herself like that, but it had helped, and she'd been able to finish her shift without any problems.

She'd wanted to hide the next day, and the day after that, but forced herself not to. As much as she would have loved to find a hole and pull it in after herself, that wouldn't help in the long run. She had to find a way to deal with these people.

They weren't **all** bad, of course. Derek Shepherd didn't seem to have any problems with her at all, and since he was a neuro surgeon, he, at least, had an understanding of why she was the way she was. Meredith Grey was a little harder to warm up to, as she seemed to have unknowingly picked up an 'all about me' complex. Well, that might serve her well as a surgeon, she supposed. She could say hurtful things, perhaps, but they never seemed to be deliberately so.

Lexie Grey, on the other hand, seemed to be one of the nicest people she'd ever met. She never minded having the younger Grey on her service, despite her... questionable taste in men.

She hadn't wanted to engage in gossip, but in a hospital where the doctors seemed to care more about their own love lives then the _actual _lives of their patients, there was simply no escaping it. So when it became known that there was maybe possibly kind of some potential thing developing between Lexie Grey and Mark Sloan, she'd heard about it.

Sloan made her wary. She'd heard him described as something of a man-whore, to the point where the nurses had actually boycotted his surgeries. It was just another symptom of the root problem of personal interests overshadowing professional. On the other hand, however, while they hadn't interacted much, he had been respectful when they had crossed paths, and any comments he might make never seemed to have any real weight to them.

Callie Torres... avoided her.

She really didn't know what to make of that. She'd told herself that it likely didn't have anything to do with her, that she didn't know Torres at all, and it was entirely possible that the Ortho surgeon just didn't like people. For once, the gossip mills failed her, as anyone who might know anything about _anything _that was going on with Torres these days wasn't talking. They'd only had one surgery together, and Torres had been clipped, formal, and to the point, without any extraneous chatter. It had just been 'go in, find the problem, solve the problem, and leave'.

Frankly, she appreciated that kind of professionalism. So when she'd learned that there was a trauma coming in that would require both ortho and cardio, among others, naturally she'd requested Dr. Torres.

And now she was being told that that wasn't possible.

"Why not?" It was a reasonable question, and she hadn't thought she'd put any special emphasis on either word, yet Dr. Yang still seemed to be fighting not to roll her eyes.

Yang was something of a puzzle. On the outside, she certainly seemed like a textbook misanthrope. She could be cold, condescending, and seemed to view her patients as machines, vessels for the cardio surgery she sought so desperately. And yet, she did seem to have friends, even care about them, not that she enjoyed showing it. Meredith Grey, evidently, was "her person", whatever _that _meant. She didn't seem to like Dixon at all, yet still tried to suck up to her whenever possible. That was in order to get in on as many surgeries as possible, she knew, but still...

From what she'd heard, her predecessor had not been especially kind to Yang. Indeed, she'd seemed to be thrilled to have someone else as head of cardio, someone who'd be willing to let her scrub in more often. Yet... she missed Hahn. Even Dixon had been able to figure **that** out. It could have been because of the loss of someone with as much knowledge as Hahn had... or it could have been something else completely. That, she did **not** know.

"She's off today," Yang replied simply. Yet still she lingered, obviously hoping to get in on the surgery. "Don't worry, Mack's still around."

Dixon frowned. She didn't _want _to work with Mack. She wanted **Torres**. Mack was one of the more aggravating people in the hospital, in her opinion. He took too long to make his diagnosis, he didn't take her seriously, and the only thing that made him at all tolerable was the fact that she never had to work with him. "How is that supposed to reassure me?"

Yang blinked, then looked briefly like she wanted to smile. "If he didn't know what he was doing, he wouldn't be allowed to work here."

Privately, Dixon wasn't so certain of that, but refrained from saying so. "Did I do something to make Dr. Torres unhappy with me?"

Judging by her expression - which wasn't the easiest thing in the world for Dixon to do - Yang found that a rather random question. "Just because she has the day off today, that doesn't mean-"

"Not today," Dixon interrupted. "In general."

Yang shifted uncomfortably. They were standing in the ambulance bay, far enough from the others hanging around for them to overhear their discussion. Dixon knew from past experience that if she pressed too hard, whoever she was talking to might decide to clam up, but this had been bugging her for a while, and now that she finally had an opportunity to shed some light on the subject, she was going to take it. "Not... really, no. She and Dr. Hahn were... very close."

"No one else reacts to my presence the way she does."

"**Very** close." Yang gave her what was probably supposed to be a significant look.

It was lost on her. She'd never met Hahn and barely knew _anything _about Torres - gossip about her ex and the number of times she'd been seen ducking into an on-call room with the resident man-whore not withstanding - so she had no idea what to make of that statement. "Oh," was all she said.

Yang shrugged. "Personally, I think she should just get over it, already. We all get dumped, sometimes. She likes to think I didn't know about her and Hahn, but... Well, some things you can't really just ignore. I can't really blame Hahn for walking out on her, after everything that she did. And she just _had _to do this when Hahn was finally starting to teach me."

Yang wasn't really looking at her just then, her gaze directed toward the street, which was good, because Dixon couldn't quite hide her look of shock. That Torres and Hahn might have been an item didn't really bother her at all, but... "Aren't you her friend?" she blurted out before she could think better of it.

"I'm not the girly sort of person. She knows that." She didn't seem to care that she was basically saying that her career was more important to her then her friend's happiness or emotional well being. Dixon had been accused a few times in the past of having no emotions - a common misconception when it came to people with Asperger's, but one that could still annoy her greatly, even now - but even she'd never been _that _cold.

How could she do this job without caring about people at all?

"Dr. Yang... Why did you become a doctor?"

That caught her attention. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you become a doctor? What made you first decide you wanted to go to medical school?"

"Why are you-"

"Please. Just... answer the question."

"Maybe I just wanted to help people. Is that all right with you?"

Somehow, Dixon _knew _that she wouldn't have talked to Dr. Hahn like that. "You could do that as a firefighter, or a police officer, or any number of things. Why medicine?"

Yang shifted defensively. "They don't _interest _me like this does. I mean, heart surgery... Well, I'm sure I don't have to tell _you._"

"My mother died from complications during a bypass surgery."

Yang rocked back, evidently startled by the revelation. Maybe it had been a bit personal, but she tended to do that, sometimes. Yang would just have to get used to it... if she decided to stick around. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"Why would you have?" Dixon asked reasonably. "I was nine. And that was when I knew what I wanted to do with my life." She wasn't entirely certain this was an appropriate conversation for the workplace, but if she meant to work here, to teach these people, she had to start somewhere. "So, what set you on this path?"

Yang's mouth worked silently for a moment, until she managed to say, "I don't know. I guess... I've never really thought about it."

The ambulance was pulling up, but Dixon took the time to look at her for a long moment before gently asking, "Don't you think you should?"

* * *

"When you were young, you never needed anyone..."

Callie wasn't sure what she was doing.

"And making love was just for fun. Those days are gone..."

After talking with Addison, she'd known what she had to do. She _needed _to see Erica, to talk to her, to apologize. And, Callie being Callie, she'd immediately called the airport and booked herself on the first flight out to New York City.

"Living alone, you think of all the friends you've known. But when you dial the telephone... Nobody's home."

Of course, in the time between then and now, she'd been racked by doubt and uncertainty. Was this the right thing to do? Would Erica even want to see her? Would she listen? Would this only hurt her more? Causing her any further pain was the absolute **last** thing Callie ever wanted to do.

She was, however, certain of one thing.

She was seriously beginning to regret asking Mark Sloan to drop her off at the airport that morning.

"All by yourself. Don't wanna be all by yourself, anymore. All by yourself. Don't wanna live all by myself, anymore..."

"Mark!" she shouted, drawing even more stares then Mark's "singing" had been. "Would you _please _stop mangling that song?" He could do a lot of things well, she knew, but singing didn't seem to be one of them.

On the other hand, if this was the worst that she had to go through to get through to Erica...

"Sorry," he said, his jaunty tone and amused grin belying his words. "I guess I'm just a sucker for romantic gestures like this."

She groaned and approached the ticket counter, confirming her reservation and paying for her ticket. This sort of thing had seemed to so much faster in the past. _Yay for safety and security, _she thought sourly. Couldn't they see she was in a hurry? "I think I can take it from here," she told him once she had her ticket in hand. "Don't you have to get to work, soon? You'll want to leave soon if you wanna make it there through the traffic."

"I've got some time, yet," he told her, dashing her hopes. "And really, how could I leave without seeing you off safely?"

"You won't be able to anyway, you know that. If you don't have a ticket, they won't let you through to the gates." And there was no way God hated her enough to let THAT happen.

"I can at least escort you that far," he insisted, still grinning. "After all... You're leaving on a jet plane, don't know when you'll be back again..."

"Mark, I beg of you, _please _stop! Leave the singing to someone who can actually carry a tune to save their life."

"Like you?" The grin widened.

That she could sing was _not _common knowledge at Seattle Grace, and she had to wonder how he'd found out... if indeed he had, and he wasn't just screwing around with her. "Maybe." She'd been worried that they wouldn't make it in time, but fortunately they hadn't managed to get there _that _late. As it was, though, most everyone in line had already gone through, so the wait for the metal detectors was a short one. She'd done little more then throw a few items of clothing in a duffel bag and make sure her iPod was fully charged, so getting through didn't take especially long.

She quietly suggested to one of the security guards that the scruffy-looking guy who'd been with her was acting a bit _too _happy, and they might want to search him for drugs. **Very** thoroughly. And that they might want to get the biggest, toughest guy they had to do it, because he looked like a fighter. Then she put in her earbuds, selected a song on her iPod, and enjoyed the way his jaw dropped open as she began to sing along.

_I've been practicing all day  
Now the words I meant to say are gone  
I promised that I wouldn't cry  
Told myself I had to try and hold on  
The truth, I lied  
I hate myself inside  
And why  
I played the game and paid the price _

She grinned as she turned and headed toward her gate, giving him a wave over her shoulder.

_  
I never look back  
I never cry, never try to wonder why  
I'll be on my own  
And never doubt, never shout or wonder how  
I'll never be lonely until  
This time, this time, this time  
This time I will_

I've been wide awake all night  
There's no sign of sleep inside my mind  
The headlight shadows scan my wall  
I convince myself you'll call in time 

She actually had been up all night. After talking to Addison, and making her decision... She couldn't have slept if she'd wanted to. Hopefully, she'd be able to get some on the flight out, otherwise...

Well, the results wouldn't be pretty.

_The truth, I lied  
The girl in me has died  
And why  
I played the game and paid the price_

I never look back  
I never cry, never try to wonder why  
I'll be on my own  
And never doubt, never shout or wonder how  
I'll never be lonely until  
This time, this time, this time  
This time I will 

"_This time I will be yours completely,_" she sang with feeling. "_This time I'll make sure you don't hate me. This time I know, this time I can, and this time I will..._"

This was it, she knew. This was the absolute last chance she would ever have with Erica Hahn. If she couldn't get Erica to take her back one last time... If she couldn't at least make sure Erica knew how incredibly sorry she was for her horrific behavior...

She never would.

_Make it or break it time, Torres. _If nothing else... She wanted to make sure Erica would be happy. Even if that meant staying away from her forever. But only if she was really, truly happy. Not just if she _said _she was, or even if she'd managed to convince herself that it was true.

_I never look back  
I never cry, never try to wonder why  
I'll be on my own  
And never doubt, never shout or wonder how  
I'll never be lonely until  
This time, this time, this time  
This time I will  
I never look back  
I never cry, never try to wonder why  
I'll be on my own  
And never doubt, never shout or wonder how  
I'll never be lonely until  
This time, this time, this time  
This time I will... _

She allowed her voice to trail off as she neared her terminal. A quick check of her watch told her that she still had twenty-two minutes left before they even began boarding. She took a seat in the waiting area, hope and determination warring with anxiety and uncertainty. She sighed quietly as the song reached its gentle conclusion.

_I've been practicing all day  
Now the words I meant to say are gone. _


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Do Not Go Quietly... (3/?)  
Author: obsidian179  
Rating: PG-13, at least so far.  
Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of ABC and Shonda Rhimes - though considering the treatment they've been giving it, I'm starting to think there should be some kind of DCFS-equivalent for television shows.  
Summary: This was NOT how Callie wanted to leave things...

Author's notes: I've come to the realization that I hate moving. Not only does it take forever, disrupt my life, and require a LOT of boxes (more then I really had when I started), but it also seems to chase away the muse. But I'm finally all settled in, so let's get this show back on the road.

This was the flight from hell.

Callie had to fight down an almost overpowering urge to slam her head into the window repeatedly until she knocked herself unconscious. She didn't really want to flirt with a concussion or possible brain damage, but even those risks were beginning to lose their ability to frighten her.

She was in coach, which was all that had been available. Not that she _had _to fly first class or anything, and given how last minute her ticket purchase had been - and that it was a direct flight to New York, which was always crowded with people who didn't want to have to deal with changing planes - it wasn't exactly a surprise, but that did mean that she hadn't been able to choose her seat, and had ended up with a neighbor.

A very talkative neighbor.

And she couldn't tell the old woman to shut up, or say she really had no interest in what her seven thousand grandchildren were doing, without being unforgivably rude.

Not to mention that she was afraid that even _that _wouldn't shut the woman up.

Gentle hints about how she was rather tired and could use some sleep were ignored in favor of showing her pictures.

So.

Very.

Many.

Pictures.

Then they'd hit some turbulence. She caught herself wishing that someone would hit their head or break a limb, so that she'd have a valid excuse to get up and go somewhere else, but shuddered when she realized that her neighbor was frail enough that it could be _her. _Not that she enjoyed it aside from that, of course. One particularly rough patch had her clenching at her arm rests, feeling a jolt of panic flood through her as visions of the plane's fiery demise raced through her brain. Fortunately, it passed by quickly enough.

As a result of the sadly accident-free turbulence, her flight ended up taking even _longer _then the geological epoch that it had already gone on for. (Oh, they _said _they were about halfway through the six-and-a-half hour flight, but she knew better.) And when her seatmate finally did stop talking and took a nap, Callie herself found that she simply couldn't sleep.

She wished irony had a physical avatar, so she could punch it in the face.

She was simply too wound up to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, her fears about the upcoming encounter with Erica would flood through her mind. That she would lose the blonde, that Erica might not want Callie in her life _at all._.. It was simply unthinkable.

Maybe in some alternate universe where her brain had been reprogrammed by aliens or some such thing she might be able to go on, but this was real. She didn't know how to _function _without Erica anymore.

They were supposed to be together. She knew that. But she also knew that she'd never win Erica over with _that _argument. Which, of course, lead to the question of what she _should _say.

And she found she had absolutely no idea.

Since sleep was a lost cause by that point, she instead ordered a coffee and tried to plan out what she should say, how she could make Erica understand how incredibly sorry she was.

When they landed four hours later, she was no closer to figuring it out then she had been when she'd been in Seattle.

* * *

Something felt... off, somehow.

Erica Hahn was not the sort of woman who believed in premonitions, psychic powers, magic, fortune telling, horoscopes, or any such thing. She believed in the real, the tangible. She wasn't even sure where she stood on the subject of God.

And yet, ever since she'd first woken up that morning, something just felt... off.

She hadn't forgotten any appointments, nothing was wrong in the house, her car was running fine, her patients were in good shape - or as good as those in need of heart surgery could be.

She almost wanted something to go wrong, just so she'd have an actual cause for her unease. She became more tense and irritable as the day progressed. When she caught herself nearly snapping at one of the nurses, she decided a break was in order.

Fortunately, that was one of the perks of being the boss, setting her own schedule. As long as she kept her beeper on her, and didn't wander _too _far away from the hospital, she could step outside and take a walk if she wanted to.

Luckily, Mount Sinai was practically next door to Central Park.

Leaving Dr. Hahn at the doors of the hospital, she slipped through the crowd as she moved down the sidewalk. New York City was very different then Seattle, in almost every possible way. There were more people, it was warmer (not a **lot**, but it _was _warmer, which was nice), the surrounding landscape wasn't as green, it was less humid, there was less precipitation, the E.R. seemed busier... The list was endless, or so it sometimes seemed.

The staff at the hospital was different then she was used to, too. They were focused and competent and everything Seattle Grace wasn't. Everything they _should _have been. When she'd first accepted Webber's job offer, she'd been promised that Seattle Grace was the best hospital around, and exactly where she needed to be in order to advance her career.

She almost laughed. In one respect, that had actually been true. She'd barely been there a year, and now she was the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery at Mount Sinai, one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country. So at least _something _good had come out of working in that den of iniquity.

Now, if she could just convince herself that having her heart shredded like that had been worth it...

So far, she was at least sticking to her vow to avoid any romantic entanglements. Not that she hadn't been doing about the same back in Seattle at about this time after joining the staff. She'd even managed to keep the resident manwhore from sniffing too close. She simply hadn't realized that she should have been trying to keep the local _women _at a distance.

Not until _she'd _come along. But by then it had been too late. Callie had slipped into her heart before she'd realized it, and refused to be dislodged.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Pushing any thoughts of what she'd left behind to the back of her mind where they belonged, she smiled as she approached the coffee cart ahead of her. Sure, there was one such cart right in front of the hospital, and coffee machines scattered all over the hospital itself, in addition to what was served in the cafeteria, but Luis, in her opinion, simply made better java then they did. A little extra walking didn't bother her.

And the fact that none of her colleagues ever seemed to go there was hardly a drawback.

Luis himself was a few inches shorter then she was, middle-aged, and a few pounds comfortably overweight. He was a genial sort of guy, never pushing her beyond small talk, and his perpetual good mood often helped a bit on bad days. In return, she refrained from inquiring about his past, or why someone who spoke so fondly of his home in the Dominican Republic was in New York.

Besides, he provided her with coffee, which automatically endeared him to her.

"Good morning, Doctor Hahn," he greeted her, customary smile on his face. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"It's only morning?" she asked even as she got out the money for her usual. A quick look at her watch confirmed that his statement was accurate, if only just barely. "It may be a lovely day, but I can already tell it's going to be a long one."

"Days aren't long or short," he corrected, still smiling. "They just are. It's how we view them that differs."

Her lips curled wryly. "Well, I suspect I'm going to view this one as dragging on forever, then." She shook her head. "Wish I knew why."

He offered a slight shrug as he poured her coffee. "Who can say? Perhaps there is something that you're missing."

_Or someone. _

It took a fair amount of effort to keep her expression level, but the thought, once it had occurred to her, wouldn't be banished quite as easily as usual. She'd been doing her damnedest to avoid thinking about _her _ever since she'd left Seattle, usually with mixed results. She took another sip of her coffee and made a deliberate effort to turn her attention to her upcoming surgeries, pretending she didn't see Luis watching her as she did. "Nothing that would be making me feel like this," she said truthfully, then paused, as she felt a chill run down her back. It was the oddest feeling, and she just barely resisted the urge to look behind her. Abruptly, her stomach clenched severely that she nearly lost what little coffee she'd already swallowed, along with her breakfast.

Luis didn't miss the change in her expression. "Doctor Hahn? Are you all right?"

No. No, she wasn't. She could feel the blood draining from her face, and her heartbeat rapidly accelerate. The coffee? She doubted it, unless Luis had spiked it with 100% pure, concentrated adrenaline. Still, she set it down on the cart, noting a slight tremor in her hand as she did. Memories of the end of Preston Burke's tenure at Seattle Grace swam to the forefront of her brain, but she knew this wasn't the same. Still, she'd never admit to any weaknesses. Not anymore. Not since... _her. _"Yes, I'm okay." Her throat went dry, and a sudden surge in anxiety nearly knocked her off her feet. "Probably."

He stepped around his cart to stand next to her. "Perhaps you should sit down."

That sounded like a good idea, but what she really wanted was to be moving. "Thank you, but I think I'm going to head back to the hospital, now." She was actually starting to feel a little better, the odd feeling disappearing as mysteriously as it had appeared. "I have some paperwork to take care of, anyway. Thank you, though." That last was almost an afterthought, but if her time at Seattle Grace had taught her nothing else, she had at least relearned the basics of human interaction and possible friendship.

Not that she intended to ever let anyone get _that _close to her again.

Luis was obviously skeptical, but she was gone before he could even try and change her mind.

* * *

Callie could have wept from sheer relief when she finally left the airport. Well, relief and exhaustion. If she ever saw that old woman again...

_No, forget it, get to Erica. _She still didn't know what she was going to say - really, her mind felt like sludge, to the point where it took some effort even to remember where she wanted the taxi she flagged down to take her - but figured she might as well go with it. Overthinking things was what had started her problems back in Seattle, after all. She'd just be honest, tell Erica what she was thinking and feeling, and hope for the best.

It was mid-afternoon by then, the city a crowded bustle of people of every variety, all hurrying along to their destinations... some more patiently then others. She'd been to New York before, and was always amazed by the size and sheer scope of the place, the beautiful architecture, the incredibly diverse population. Now, though, she didn't even notice any of that. She simply stared out the window, in a sort of pense-less haze.

She probably should have had the cab take her to a hotel - and there was at least one not too far away that she could have stayed at, if not for free, then at least cheap; she hadn't been keeping up with her family's hotel chain all that well of late, so she had no idea if they'd opened any new ones - but all she could think of was getting to Erica. She'd wasted so much time already...

She was startled back to reality by the taxi driver's voice telling her they were there. Judging by his tone, it wasn't the first time he'd said it, either. She paid him the fare, probably giving him too big of a tip, and picked up her bag as she slid out of the cab and stepped onto the sidewalk.

She could only wonder what he must have thought of her, wandering around like a zombie and heading from the airport straight to the hospital. Probably that someone was sick or dying.

Considering the rate she'd been deteriorating since Erica had left... she wondered how wrong he would have been.

Mt. Sinai was very... large. And clean. And professional-looking. Intellectually, she knew Seattle Grace was all of those things, too, but standing out front, looking up at Erica's new hospital... She couldn't help but feel like Seattle Grace came up short in comparison, in every respect.

Given that they went from a second-ranked transplant center to a twelfth-ranked one...

Well, Erica might well have wanted to transfer there even if Callie _hadn't _treated her so horribly. But she wouldn't have. Not until Callie could have come, too. That was just the kind of person she was.

_You don't deserve her, Torres.  
_  
She shook her head. That didn't matter. She needed to talk to Erica, to apologize to her, to _see _her.

_Yeah, right. You're hoping that she'll take you back yet again, like some kind of doormat.  
_  
That wasn't true. She just-

_Who do you think you're fooling? Why do you think she'd even give you the time of day after the way you treated her? You deserve to suffer.  
_  
Maybe... but Erica didn't. If she could just manage to find some way to bring her some kind of peace... of closure...

_Right, because her cheating ex showing up to ask for another chance will help her find **closure**. Right. And you've done exactly **what** to try and make things up to her?  
_  
"Shut up..." she whispered. She was so very _tired... _

Her mind chuckled darkly at her. _Never could stand hearing the truth, could you? Maybe that's why you ran out on Erica while she was bearing her soul to you. It was just too much for you, wasn't it? Too **real**. You knew then that you didn't deserve her, and did you ever go out of your way to prove that.  
_  
"Shut up!" People were staring at her, she noticed. Which, she supposed, might have something to do with the fact that she'd been standing in front of a hospital, staring at it, and yelling at nothing. Physical and emotional exhaustion made her feel like crying, but she pushed it back and headed inside.

She had to blink a few times when she came upon a directory to get it in focus enough to read it, but she managed to locate the Department of Cardiothoracic Surgery and headed for the elevator. She zoned out again for most of the ride, but at least this time she didn't need someone to tell her when she got there.

Her stomach was doing that for her quite nicely.

She supposed it was a lucky thing for the hospital's carpets that she hadn't eaten since... lunch yesterday? Had she even finished that meal? She couldn't remember anymore, and barely cared.

Still, when she winced after clearing her throat to get the attention of the woman at the desk, she did wish she'd grabbed a bottle of water or something.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, looking at her curiously.

Deciding that was probably the best reaction she could have hoped for in her state, she made an effort to smile pleasantly. "Yes. I'm, ah, looking for Er- Ah, Doctor Hahn's office." Probably should have called her 'the chief', she thought a little too late. Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it, now.

"Dr. Torres?"

That caught her attention, because she may have been drifting in and out a bit lately, but she was certain she hadn't introduced herself yet. "How-?"

"Addison told me you were coming," she explained, smiling. "She wanted me to make sure you got here in one piece."

"Not sure I did," Callie muttered, not really aware she'd even spoken aloud.

The woman's smile faltered, her expression changing more to one of sympathy. "My name's Marie. Just give me a second to find someone to cover the desk, and I'll take you to the chief's office."

Callie nodded, otherwise not moving from her spot. Not from any impatience she might have been feeling so much as a general lack of energy.

Marie was a few inches shorter then Callie, with darker skin and black hair swept up into a bun. It looked like she was keeping it there with a pair of chopsticks, and it was a sign of just how out of it Callie was that she didn't even notice.

Erica's office turned out to be just as professional and impersonal as Callie would have thought. Beyond a somewhat battered-looking vinyl couch - which simply must have been more comfortable then it looked, for Erica to hang on to it - there wasn't really anything beyond the chair, desk, and computer that must have come with the office. Perhaps the couch had, too, thus accounting for its less-then-pristine condition. No pictures, no personal effects, nothing that said 'Erica'.

The office belonged to Dr. Hahn, and no one else.

She was surprised to find herself alone, then dimly recalled Marie saying something about going to find Dr. Hahn. The realization that Erica, the woman she'd flown across the country for, was likely on her way even at that moment _should _have inspired her to panic, but she just... couldn't. Instead, she felt a sort of resigned acceptance, as if some part of her was consigned to the belief that whatever happened from there on, it was out of her hands.

Which wasn't true, of course, but the next move certainly wasn't-

The door opened, and her train of thought dissolved.

_Erica...  
_  
She was beautiful. Even as a flurry of emotions passed over the blonde's face, Callie couldn't help but think it. She'd forgotten just how beautiful Erica Hahn was in person. Or made herself forget it. And the effect that those eyes had on her.

Those blue, blue eyes.

Her knees quivered.

"Callie?" Erica was saying, or that was what Callie thought she was saying, but it was hard to hear anything over the sudden rushing in her ears. She tried to respond, to greet her, but her mouth wasn't working the way she wanted it to, and her legs felt like they were made out of lead when she tried to take a step closer. Erica took a few steps of her own, looking concerned as she said something else that Callie missed completely. Dehydration, starvation, and utter physical and emotional exhaustion all caught up with her, and she felt herself start to pitch forward as the world began going black.

The last thing she was aware of before she passed out completely was the pair of strong arms that caught her before she hit the floor.


End file.
